A hidden gem in the bustling indie music world, Dani T is so underground you'll need a shovel to find him. Born among the spinning disco balls of Transylvania, Romania, this mirthful music alchemist knows how to glitter in the dark.

With his effervescent concoction of synth-laden dance beats, Dani T brings the Transylvanian nightlife to your speakers of choice. His infectious track, "One More Day," is just like garlic to a vampire—utterly irresistible and heating up dancefloors faster than Dracula racing to his coffin at sunrise.

Dani T's talent lies in his ability to infuse his tracks with a joy so potent it could charm a sullen ghoul out of a funk. His music doesn't just evoke happiness—it practically puts it on steroids, glitters it up, and sends it spinning out into the world with a bass-pounding emphasis.

The ghosts of Dani T’s concert crowd may lack a pulse, but trust us, they know how to party. So why stake your heart on mainstream artists when you can sink your teeth into Dani T’s deliciously diverse dark dance tracks? Hop on the next night train to Transylvania, and give Dani T's music a fangtastic whirl.

---

Skye is a Korean-born pop sensation who now calls California her home. With a voice that blends vulnerability and power, she quickly rose from uploading covers in her bedroom to headlining stages across the West Coast. Inspired by both K-pop precision and Western pop freedom, Skye creates a hybrid sound that defies borders.

From heartbreak anthems to confident bangers, her lyrics speak to a generation raised on contradictions — soft yet strong, bold yet uncertain. Having trained in Seoul during her early teens, she carries the discipline of her roots while embracing the expressive energy of LA's music scene.

Often dubbed the “Pop Queen of Both Worlds,” Skye’s performances are emotional rollercoasters filled with glitter, synths, and raw truth. She’s not just building a fanbase — she’s building a movement.

---

Axel Monroe was born on the edge of Athens, Georgia, where backroads hum with cicadas and old Fords rust under the southern sun. Raised by a single mother and a turntable, he grew up tracing guitar solos in the air before he ever held a six-string. His earliest memories are soaked in the sounds of Led Zeppelin’s "Physical Graffiti" and Thin Lizzy’s "Live and Dangerous"—records that spun endlessly in his living room, turning boyhood into something raw and electric.

He didn’t go to music school. He went to basements, pawn shops, and roadside dive bars—learning tone, timing, and truth the long way. Axel’s sound fuses the swagger of '70s rock giants with the cinematic punch of '80s anthems. There’s a southern drawl in his riffs, a touch of melancholy in his choruses, and a quiet confidence that only comes from living outside the algorithm.

His breakout track “Look At Them Dance” captures it all—a bittersweet anthem for anyone who’s watched joy from the sidelines, then decided to jump in anyway.

Now signed with NOT FM and releasing exclusively through Filodyo, Axel Monroe isn’t trying to bring back the past. He’s just making damn sure it never gets forgotten.

---

Ayvenn was born and raised in Clearwater Heights, a quiet hillside town in Georgia where music wasn’t just background noise — it was how people coped, celebrated, and remembered. From Sunday gospel choirs to late-night Latin radio, the sounds around him shaped a boy who rarely spoke, but always listened. In silence, he learned to interpret the world. And when he began writing lyrics, it wasn’t about performance — it was about decoding feelings he couldn’t name.

Fusing Pop and R&B with understated Latin textures, Ayvenn crafts music that feels more like film than formula. His voice is warm, restrained, and precise — a narrator of emotional undercurrents rather than explosions. Each track unfolds slowly, deliberately, like memories coming into focus. There’s clarity in his subtlety, weight in his pauses.

His breakout song, “All for One Y.” was born from an unexpected connection. Hakan E — the mind behind Filodyo, known for his instinct in spotting rare talent — reached out after hearing early demos from Ayvenn. He sent a short message and a concept: “This isn’t a love song. It’s a math problem.” That idea resonated deeply. To Ayvenn, the X’s weren’t just variables — they were past mistakes, unanswered questions, the people he couldn’t quite hold onto. And the “Y”? The reason he kept trying.

Ayvenn recorded the song in a single late-night session, layering vocals with surgical attention, pulling tension from silence, and shaping each detail until it echoed with something intimate and real. To Solve for Y isn’t just a debut — it’s an internal dialogue turned outward, crafted for anyone who’s ever tried to explain a feeling they didn’t fully understand.

Now, Ayvenn is building a sound that’s emotionally meticulous, sonically immersive, and unmistakably his own. Every track is a quiet revelation. Every heartbreak, every wrong turn — part of the formula. And somewhere, at the end of it, is the answer. Always her.

---

Meet Camille Duret, the French femme fatale of the pop scene, who manifests the charm of Parisian streets and the sunlit magic of the French Rivier into her songs. She's not just another 'joie de vivre' gal, folks, her tunes will make you feel like dancing on the cobblestones with a warm croissant in hand!

Camille was made in France, quite literally, and her music is neither too rich, nor too thin, rather, much like the perfect crème brûlée. Her infectious pop anthems, dripping with sweet melodic lines, makes you question if sugar may run in her veins. She makes you believe that you're sip-sip-sipping champagne on the Seine, no matter where you are.

Surely, you've bopped your head, maybe even twirled a bit, to her banger “Never Too Late”. A cocktail of happy heartbeats, tasty hooks and irresistible refrains, laced with a sing-along chorus, it's classic Camille at her best. This melodious masterpiece is like a delightful dance with a macaron - sweet, colourful and leaves you wanting more.

So, let's raise our glasses to Camille Duret, the Parisian pop princess who consistently proves that pop can be served well done, medium rare or, occasionally, à la mode. Trust us, once you've had a bite of Camille’s music flambé, there's no going back – Bon Appétit!

---

Mark Martian is one of the most elusive figures in the music world, and his mysterious persona has left many fans wondering—could he really be from Mars?

Known for using the alias Martian Mark during his collaborations, this enigmatic producer has somehow managed to evade the spotlight completely. No interviews, no photos, no videos—Mark is practically a ghost. Some say it’s part of his brand, while others speculate wildly. Who knows?

Maybe while Elon Musk dreams of building colonies on Mars, Mark’s already here, quietly making beats after hitching a ride from the Red Planet’s first neighborhood.

Despite the secrecy surrounding him, one thing’s clear: Mark’s music speaks volumes. His deep house tracks pulse with interstellar vibes, his pop productions are out-of-this-world catchy, and his funk grooves are, well, otherworldly.

Whether he’s blending cosmic synths with soulful beats or dropping funk-infused rhythms, his style keeps listeners hooked and guessing. You can hear his work across platforms, but his music truly shines on Filodyo, where you might catch the next great Martian anthem—if he doesn’t beam it up first.

---

Lyra Luxx, the eternal songbird of California, hails from a unique lineage of performers and artistic savants. A vibrant fount of melodies, with a story as colorful as her repertoire, Luxx's journey toward musical prominence took root in the sunny courtyards of Laguna Beach High School (LBHS). Here, amidst the bustling crowd of students and the cacophony of crashing lockers, Lyra carved out a refuge with her schoolmates in an all-girl band. The only remaining member from that original lineup, Luxx had an added feather in her high school cap, holding the esteemed position of a cheerleader. Who else, after all, could champion the school spirit better than the musical prodigy herself?

With a name as resplendent as ‘Lyra Luxx,’ you might expect a pivotal star moment or a dramatic twist. In a plot worthy of a Broadway production, her golden opportunity struck beneath the glaring halogens and amidst the simulated fog of LBHS’s annual talent extravaganza. The only thing missing was a superhero cape as she delivered an iconic rendition of her now famous single, "My Happy Song". The ensuing applause could have rivaled any seismic activity in California, thus turning a new page in her journey. Today, Luxx is recognized far beyond the confines of LBHS, solidifying her star status with each melodious offering. And as for that erstwhile all-girls band? It exists now only in memory, as a significant stepping stone in the rise and rise of Lyra Luxx, California's own glamorous diva. But remember folks, beneath all the glitter and the vocals, she remains the invincible cheerleader from Laguna Beach High School. Go, team!

---

Bruno Galvez was born to a working-class Spanish family in Valencia, where the scent of orange blossoms mixed with the sound of distant flamenco was part of everyday life. Raised in a modest apartment above a small tapas bar, Bruno’s earliest memories include the strum of his grandfather’s old guitar and the rhythm of heels tapping against the tiled floor. Music wasn't just tradition — it was identity.

To support himself through school, Bruno played guitar on the streets and metro stations of Madrid, his case open for coins, his eyes always scanning for inspiration. These years shaped both his sound and his soul. The rawness of performing for strangers taught him to listen deeply to people’s silence — and to fill it with something honest. His fingers spoke when words failed, and soon his name became familiar in the underground corners of the city.

He studied Anthropology at the Universidad Autónoma de Madrid, drawn to human stories, rituals, and rhythms — the same themes that echo in his music. By night he was a student of culture; by day, a transmitter of it, blending traditional flamenco with the urgency of the modern world. His academic lens gave new depth to his compositions, adding layers that resonated beyond melody.

Today, Bruno Galvez is no longer just a street performer. He’s a storyteller, a cultural bridge, and a reminder that music — especially flamenco — is not meant to be caged. It is meant to move, to cry, to celebrate, and most importantly, to survive.

---

Born and raised in Ventura, California, Jett Ralston grew up in a garage that smelled like motor oil, vinyl records, and his father’s hair pomade. While other kids watched cartoons, Jett memorized the Grease soundtrack and tried to mirror Elvis's hip sway in the hallway mirror. His voice—low, smoky, and just a little rough around the edges—carries the DNA of that golden age, but never feels stuck in it.

Jett’s debut single “Through Me” (feat. Dolores Queen) is a cinematic slow-burn: part lost love, part lounge confession. Produced exclusively for Filodyo, the track fuses analog charm with subtle modern edges, pairing his velvet baritone with Dolores Queen’s haunting harmonies. He doesn’t try to be Elvis — but he sings like someone who misses that kind of honesty on stage.

With a sound caught somewhere between a flickering jukebox and a midnight highway, Jett Ralston is not here for nostalgia — he's here to make old souls feel seen again.

---

Ian Merrow is an alternative singer-songwriter from the misty shores of Brighton, UK, whose music lives quietly but powerfully—exclusively on Filodyo. Blending melancholic guitar textures with intimate, confessional lyrics, Ian crafts songs that feel like late-night thoughts you were never meant to say out loud. His sound walks the line between indie rock and cinematic pop, echoing the raw sensitivity of artists like Jeff Buckley and the atmospheric pull of early Radiohead.

Rather than chasing the mainstream, Ian chose to remain deliberately off-grid. He records in his small seaside flat, using second-hand gear and a notebook full of scribbled lines. For him, imperfection is part of the truth. His debut track "Runaway Light" introduced listeners to a world of quiet emotional urgency, where love, regret, and longing flicker like headlights in the fog.

Ian’s connection to Filodyo wasn’t just a distribution decision—it was an artistic choice. “It’s the only platform that lets me stay invisible and be heard at the same time,” he says. No social media, no interviews, no labels. Just music. And for those who find him, it's like stumbling upon a secret worth keeping.

With each release, Ian continues to prove that volume isn’t necessary to make an impact. His songs don’t shout — they haunt.

---

For those whose hearts beat a little faster after dark, meet Paint the Moon Slow, the genre-defying trio lighting up the dance floor with rhythmically pulsating songs brimming with late-night sparkle. The group draws its moniker from a whimsical mix of cosmic awe and the unhurried charm from their native city, the lunar-graced town of Slowville.

Even though their name might lead you to believe they're about slow, soul-crushing tunes, don't be fooled; they're far from a slowcore. Instead, they intertwine cosmic shimmers into their globally influenced, mid-tempo funk-pop. Frontwoman Cleo Maren delivers vocals both gruff and rosy, a blend of smoky lounge and roller-rink diva, backed by synth maestro Rhea Dax and rhythm fanatic Jo "Kicks" Tanaka, creating anthems that twinkle with retro beats and lyrical audacity under neon lights.

Their most notable song, "All That Shine", is a dashing number that perfectly embodies their sonic aesthetic, brimming with upbeat rhythms that evoke a cheeky, happy-go-lucky mood. As contract artists with Filodyo, Paint the Moon Slow are aligning the stars for a new era of dance music. Stay tuned for more luminous offerings from these maestros of mirth, groove, and exceptional starlit tunes. Welcome to the Paint the Moon Slow universe – it’s a happy place.

---

“If it doesn’t ask questions, it’s not music.”

LYA (pronounced “Lie-uh”) is a genre-defying artist from Berlin whose roots stretch from conservatory string quartets to the depths of fog-drenched warehouse raves. A classically trained violinist who once performed Vivaldi at age nine, she left formal music behind in her early 20s to pursue something more fractured, more real. What emerged was a sound as delicate as it is defiant—where harpsichords coexist with 2-step beats, and questions matter more than answers.

Her music exists in a liminal zone: somewhere between dance and disassociation, pop and poetry, cathedral and club. LYA often weaves spoken-word passages into her songs, transforming internal monologues into melodic mantras. Vocals—sometimes her own, sometimes spliced and AI-shifted—glide over textured layers of cello, muted synths, and ambient distortion. Think: if Imogen Heap grew up listening to Burial and wrote haikus in code.

LYA’s debut EP “Syntax of Sleep” was a quiet cult success among insomniac circles on Bandcamp, praised for its “introspective maximalism.” Her live sets, often accompanied by generative visuals and interactive lighting that reacts to audience movement, blur the line between concert and hallucination. She isn’t afraid of silence, nor of noise. Both, to her, are forms of rhythm.

LYA doesn’t write songs to explain. She writes them to wonder. “What’s It Made Of?”—her latest single via notfm—isn’t just a title. It’s a dare. A whisper in the hallway between thoughts. A reminder that meaning isn’t always the point.

---

Meet Marco Bellini, the gleaming lone star of the independent dance scene, making you forget any sorrow with his upbeat tunes. Born and raised under the swaying palm trees of Naples, Italy, Bellini crafts sonic euphoria like no other.

Our man Bellini did not find his love in the stomping grounds of Naples’ electrifying night scene. Instead, the sun-soaked streets, vibrant markets, and the rhythmic cadence of the Mediterranean waves stirred something deep. This culminated in his irresistible brainchild—"The Land of No Tomorrow"—a track so hopelessly optimistic that it made the Billboard's 'Sad Songs' list for the sheer irony.

Marco, with his deft touch, keeps it simple—'Simple is the new sexy,' he once quipped, half-twirling his pencil-thin moustache. He convinces you there's always a dance party waiting around the corner, even in a world that often sounds like a broken record. His tunes are a sonic Piña Colada—sweet, refreshing, and leaving you high on life. As Marco himself proclaims, "a tempo that resonates with the heartbeat of joy, that's my journey's end."

---

With a sound as vibrant and electric as the city skyline, Emberlight sparkles atop the New York music scene like a well-placed disco ball. This dazzling fem duo is crafting dance-centric eargasms in a city that never sleeps, and admirers say the afterbuzz is real.

Maybe it's the infectious charm of Jade and Sapphire, the synth-crafting mavens behind Emberlight - a happy byproduct of insomnia spent pumping out beats and laughing into the eternity of the early dawn. Or perhaps it's the uncanny ability to paint every corner of your brain with catchy hooks and foot-shaking rhythms, the kind that leaves you humming in the bathroom mirror, hours after the party ends.

"The secret?" Jade says, turning a knob on her mixer, before glancing up with twinkling eyes of mischief, "is pizza slices at 3am. New York's finest greased cardboard cuisine. That's where the magic happens." Sapphire rolls her eyes, fiddling with a tangled synth cable, "It's synesthesia," she corrects, "Our music tastes like a pepperoni pizza."

Their standout track "Afterglow" is proof enough - drenched in sunlight, the dance anthem bounces around your heart like a cute kick-ass kangaroo playing jump rope. It glistens and pops with precisely the kind of joy-sparking energy we need in these seriously grey times. Emberlight crafts electronic music that ignites the dancefloor, and keeps the embers burning long after last call. And isn't that a delicious nightcap to sip on?

---

Born from the concrete veins of New York City’s underground, The 5th Exit is not just a band — it's a warning siren echoing through the alleys of Brooklyn. Blending the unapologetic grit of East Coast punk with the swagger of early-2000s hip-hop, their music punches through the noise like a subway train in a blackout.

The band was formed in late 2023 in a condemned warehouse turned DIY venue in Bushwick, after a street brawl-turned-jam-session between strangers. The result? Five misfits who had no plan — just noise, energy, and something to scream.

Members:
🎤 Jayno Blakk (Lead Vocals / Chaos Designer)
A former graffiti artist with a voice like broken glass in a hurricane. Born in Flatbush, Jayno spits lyrics like they’re Molotovs, laced with rage and raw truth. Known for performing barefoot and bleeding by the end of every show.

🎸 Noelle "Nox" Vega (Lead Guitar / FX Wizard)
Puerto Rican shredder with a physics degree and a pedalboard built from junkyard parts. She speaks three languages — four if you count distortion. Her solos? They don’t melt faces; they dissolve them.

🥁 Koda Rinz (Drums / Street Philosopher)
Half-poet, half-brawler. Raised by subway dancers and vinyl collectors, Koda’s beats sound like trash cans getting kicked down tenement stairwells — in perfect time. Always drumming, even in his sleep.

🎹 Echo Rowe (Synths / Scream Textures / Visuals)
The silent one. Echo doesn’t talk much, but his synth work sounds like a riot at 3AM. Also responsible for their chaotic visuals and the recurring raven motif in their shows. Rumor has it he lives in an abandoned radio tower in Queens.

🎸 Twitchy Lex (Bass / Vibe Damage Control)
Lex is the glue, or maybe the duct tape. Raised on R&B but corrupted by noise rock, he brings the groove — the dangerous kind that gets under your skin and sets off car alarms.

Their Breakout Track: "Get Out My Way"
A sonic punch to the throat, "Get Out My Way" is a war cry against complacency, gentrification, and anyone walking slow on a New York sidewalk. With a chorus that hits like a riot chant and verses that spit pure venom, it’s already being banned from small-town radio — which only makes it louder.

The 5th Exit isn’t asking for your attention. They’re taking it.
You can either move... or get run over.

---

With a name synonymous with the hauntingly beautiful waters of Ohrid, North Macedonia, Elira Vayne is your go-to dance diva with a twist. Part French, part Albanian, and 100% maverick, Vayne gives dance music a refreshing Balkan edge.

Born to the lullaby of a mandolin on Ohrid's shores, Elira was raised with the zest of Albania and the charm of France running through her veins. As if algae-ridden waters and sun-lit picnic spots out of posters whispered into her ears, everyone wondered, "Does Ohrid govern the sounds she creates?" And in a quaint voice, she would almost always blush and say, "Mais oui, and a bit of Marseille jazz too."

By the time teenage took over, the rhythm of the mandolin turned to jazz in the pulsating heart of Marseille. There, in a music sklearnamediciabacked alley bistro turned vocal studio, she trained some more in the gallant art of French jazz vocals. Little did she know that her cultural potpourri would give birth to a new music sensation: the vivacious tones of French Electronica blended with raw Balkan folklore.

Never leaving her roots far behind, each album cover of Elira's embroiders a rich tapestry of Balkan texture. In contrast, her songs hum with the vibe of French electronic dance music, mostly with her biggest hit yet, "I'm The Lighter". You can feel the happy energy as potent as the Ohrid sun, making her music a cocktail of infectious melodies under the umbrella contract of Filodyo. And quite frankly, it's this sun-soaked, high spirited party in the Byzantines' backyard that sets Elira Vayne on a league above your usual dance floor DJs.

---

Wade Hollis doesn’t chase the spotlight — he moves through the world like a shadow at dusk, quietly carving songs out of silence and sand. Born somewhere between the border towns of New Mexico and West Texas, he grew up surrounded by static-filled radio, motel ceilings, and the hum of distant freight trains.

His voice is weathered, like desert wood — raw, honest, and unpolished. Every lyric he writes feels like a road he’s driven a hundred times and still doesn’t fully understand. There’s no big team behind him, no hometown hero narrative. Just a guitar, a gravel road, and the ache of never quite belonging.

Hollis doesn’t stream anywhere else. His music lives exclusively on Filodyo and NOT FM, like postcards from a place most people drive past but never stop to feel. If you’ve ever stared out of a car window at 2 a.m. and felt both free and completely lost — you’ve already heard Wade Hollis, whether you knew it or not.

---

Soleil Vega is the kind of artist who can turn a rainy Tuesday into a rooftop party. Born and raised in Brighton, UK, she grew up surrounded by her mother’s old soul records and the pulse of the underground dance scene. Her music lives at the intersection of deep house grooves, pop sparkle, and feel-good R&B touches, driven by radiant vocals and unapologetically joyful lyrics.

Her breakout track “My Kitchen Stage” is a celebration of everyday magic—the kind you find dancing alone at home with a spatula mic in hand. The track blends warm house rhythms with bouncy basslines and a shimmering vocal delivery that makes you want to throw open the windows and turn the volume all the way up. It’s infectious, playful, and deeply personal.

Soleil’s sound is sun-kissed but grounded. She writes about friendship, late-night cravings, heartbreak, and finding your light—in the club, in the kitchen, or in your own reflection. And when she performs, it’s not a show, it’s a shared moment. Always real, always radiant.

---

Meet Sophie Weak, the daintier and infinitely more coordinated cousin of the beloved Weeble Wobble. Hailing from the cultural cauldron that is London, indie dance maven Weak has a knack for composing euphorically buoyant tracks that'll get your feet tapping and heart thumping.

She first made waves in the indie scene with the high-voltage hit, "Dancing It All Off". Weak's signature style effortlessly blends cheeky, tongue-in-cheek lyrics with electric rhythms and synthed-up beats that are sure to ignite even the most lead-footed listener's lust for dance. She's a bit like the Mary Poppins of the music world; if Mary Poppins swapped her umbrella for a sequined leotard and developed an insatiable appetite for disco balls, that is.

Sophie's sound is no mere illusion of joy, but genuine, unadulterated happiness put to a beat. Often, her tracks can be found playing in hipster cafes across the city, causing spontaneous, caffeinated dance-offs amongst bearded barristers and laptop warriors. So, brace yourself, your Bluetooth speakers, and possibly your pets (because they have sensitive ears); Sophie Weak is here to shake up your playlists with her infectious beats and infectious spirit!

---

Eli Varnish spent most of his life drawing straight lines for crooked cities. As an architect, he designed libraries, train stations, and far too many gray, forgettable office buildings. He was always more interested in light than concrete — the way it moved through windows, shifted on floors, or disappeared behind closed doors. But deadlines piled up, and inspiration gave way to invoices. When he retired at 62, he didn’t throw a party. He just handed in his keys, took the long way home, and listened to the silence.

That’s when the music came back.
In his youth, Eli had played piano quietly — always in private, never in public. Now, with no blueprints to chase, he returned to the keys. Slowly. Gently. A few friends joined him — a bassist who used to drive a bus, a trombonist who sold insurance, and a drummer who once taught math. They started meeting weekly above an old bookstore. No gigs, no names. Just music.

Eventually, they found their way into a small jazz bar — dim, warm, and half-forgotten. That’s where Eli plays now. No spotlight, no talk. Just a glass of red wine, a crooked hat, and a piano that creaks in all the right places. The audience doesn’t clap much. They just nod, like they recognize something they forgot they knew.

Eli doesn’t miss architecture. “Buildings are meant to last,” he says, “but songs... songs are meant to leave.” And so he plays — not to impress, but to remember. To trace old lines in the air. To build something no one can own, but everyone can feel.

---